Rise of Jestress
by Lucia Geuse
Summary: Before Harley Quinn, Joker had an apprentice. Jestress was cold, calculating and completely insane.


This is a biography of my character Jestress. I have a picture of her on Deviantart at art/Jestress-328396988 and wanted to do a character biography. This is a fanfiction that's been in my head for a long time and I think now is as good a time as any to get it down.

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Rosalyn Christine Le Fou was born on the streets of Paris. She was the daughter of a prostitute who would often leave her alone for hours while she went out and worked, eventually never coming back when Rosalyn was ten years old. She found a niche with a group of orphaned kids who ran around the city pick pocketing or street performing for food or money. Rosalyn picked up cards and tarot fairly early on. One of the older boys taught her different tricks for money. Rosalyn would often sing ditties with the other boys playing guitars for a few coins on the streets. She grew to love singing and would often sneak into the Paris Opera House for warmth and shelter from the cold nights.

Rosalyn often separated herself from the group and would isolate herself. She had a keen interest in death and chaos, often sabotaging others attempts to make money on the streets just for fun. If she crossed the line of someone stronger than her, they would often try to beat her up, but she was very fast on her feet and would often get away, laughing her way down the streets to disappear. When she didn't she would wind up locked away in the dark corners of whatever building she could, beaten and bruised.

As Rosalyn grew she became quite a beauty. Her long silvery blonde hair and eerie violet blue eyes would mesmerize people as she told them of their futures using the old playing cards as a tarot deck. When she was seventeen years old she heard that the Opera House was sending a cast over to America where they were going to be performing a traveling show. Wanting the chance to explore and find new places, Rosalyn snuck into the cargo that was being shipped from Paris to Gotham City. She starved for a week, rationing the little food she stole from the market place to keep her alive during the trip.

When the workers discovered her sleeping among the costumes she was immediately tossed out onto the streets of Gotham. Finding the new city fascinating she wandered around the city for days. She happened upon a few street performers and couldn't help the urge to cause chaos while they had a large group by screaming "Fire" at the top of her lungs which made the entire crowd vacate and left the performers with nothing. As she was laughing they grabbed a hold of her and kicked her in the stomach. One of the performers pulled out a small pocket knife and cut her mouth making a permanent smile on her face. They took turns beating her until she was black and blue and left her for dead.

Rosalyn woke up feeling bandages around her face. At first she began to panic, but a man of about late twenties hushed her and calmed her down. She stared at him, her eyes unblinking as he gently removed the bandages from her and held a mirror up to her face. Rosalyn stared into the mirror, but instead of being horrified at the gashes that lead up to her high cheek bones she began to laugh. The man joined in with her and laughed a high, hysterical laugh that made her feel as if she found a kindred spirit.

Rosalyn knew a bit of broken English and spoke to him, but found that her mouth hurt too much for words. He hushed her again and gave her a small bit of broth. Rosalyn remained mute for a few days while the cuts healed fully and she found that she could speak without too much pain.

"What's your name?" he asked her, his voice deep and rough.

"Rosalyn," she answered, her voice heavy with a thick French accent.

"Rosalyn? What?" he asked, leaning towards her, his eyes focused.

"Rosalyn Le Fou," she answered blinking at him with her unusual eyes.

He laughed in the hysterical voice again. "My sweet crazy girl," he said lifting her chin up. Rosalyn stared into his eyes, eyes that she related to. She knew she was meant to meet him and could only wish that she had done so sooner.

Rosalyn soon found out that the man she only knew as Joker was as unpredictable as she was. One minute he would be encouraging her with her tarot and card playing, the next backhanding her and throwing her to the floor. Rosalyn knew that although she could never predict him, she could always be prepared. She would often catch him by surprise when he would backhand her by going down and twisting to knock him on his own feet. Sometimes he would laugh, other times pull her up by her hair and hit her again.

As much as she enjoyed this game she knew that she was becoming more calculating in her unpredictability. She would wait for the right moments before lashing out on her own, challenging him in his methods. She knew she was stronger because of him and didn't hesitate if she could knock him down. It was a game of cat and mouse and she knew he enjoyed it as much as she did.

One day when Joker was out, Rosalyn decided she needed to fit the constant smile that was on her face. She dyed her hair a lime green painted her face pure white. Using what she had gathered from the Opera House, she painted her lips a bright red and decided to cover her scars with the makeup as well. She rounded her eyes with black and when she was finished she laughed uncontrollably. She was perfect, this was who she was meant to be.

When the joker returned he saw her sitting on a chair, her leg propped up and smiling. He began to laugh softly, pulling her up to him and examining her closely.

"Very nice," he said, his eyes roving over her face and hair. "Why did my little Rozy decide to change?"

"I'm not Rozy anymore," she said smiling as she slid her stiletto knife to his throat. "My name is Jestress."

Joker stood there, not moving and studied her face. He began to chuckle until he laughed hysterically, his voice going up an octave until he looked back down to her.

"Jestress you say? I like that," he said and put his arm around her. "Joker and Jestress, has kind of a catchy ring to it doesn't it?"

Jestress felt reborn. She let Rosalyn die with an easy death. That night she came to the Joker's room. She had never really been there before, but her new persona gave her a new found confidence to go into the confines of her mentor's room. She found him at a desk, going over plans, writing furiously and scratching out what he had written just as furiously. She was only wearing one of his shirts, unbuttoned to reveal a hint of her breast. Her makeup still on, her long lime green hair hanging loosely down her back.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his back to her.

"Je te désire," she whispered lightly.

He turned in his chair and looked at her, his face neutral and unreadable. Without saying a word he tore the buttons off of her shit and taking his knife, he cut the lace underwear from her and sat back to see her reaction. Jestress didn't move, her face determined and she watched him slowly smile. Joker unzipped his pants. He pulled her on top of him and took her hard and fast, watching her face as he did so.

Jestress was surprised, but stared down at him, not uttering a word, just smiling as he took her. He controlled her, as her leg dangled down on either side of him. He held her firmly to him as he bucked up inside of her, breaking her within seconds. She felt the pain rush through her as he split her body into two, but remained smiling and laughing as he did so.

After the first night Jestress had come to him several more times. She became more curious and experimental with her body and how to seduce. Joker laughed at her experiments and would let her have her way most of the time, but would often knock her down reminding her that she was the student and not the equal. Jestress quickly learned to take him by surprise in unique ways, often leaping on top of him when he least expected it. Joker took most of it in stride, letting her play and taking her in every way that he wanted. She knew that timing was the most important above all and would watch him at a distance when she was working on her own projects.

Jestress eventually found her way into his bed permanently finding an odd dyamic of a relationship as well as mentor. She knew that it was their own and it worked in a way only they could handle. Jestress would often spend most of the day apart from Joker, making her own weapons and was especially proud of her own invention. She had created entire decks of playing and tarot cards that were made out of razor sharp metal, thick enough to do damage, but light enough to throw.

While Joker was writing another plan a metal card came flying and almost slicing one of his fingers as it landed in the middle of his papers. He turned to see Jestress laughing softly as she sent another one of her cards towards him. It landed in between his legs and halfway into his chair. He launched out of his chair and grabbed her by her throat, lifting her off her legs. Her laughing stopped from the restriction of her throat, but she continued to smile.

"Think it's funny do you?" he snarled at her.

Jestress kept silent, her eyes lighted up as he continued to restrict her. He grabbed one of her cards and inspected it before dropping her and laughing. Joker wanted to test her little toys right away, but Jestress convinced him to try a bit of her dramatic makeup. At first Joker scoffed at her, but looking at her face and seeing the dramatic and menacing effect he relented and let her work on his face.

Jestress covered his face in a white face makeup that she wore and also blacked out his face and smeared a bit of red onto his lips. She had colored his hair in a dark green that mirrored her own. When she was finished she handed him the mirror. Like when Joker handed Jestress the mirror for the first time that covered her scars he too laughed hysterically.

"Joker is reborn" he stated and put his arm around her. Together the laughed and headed out into the night.

Jestress had been out into the night before, many times, but this felt different. It was the dawn of a new era where Joker and Jestress went up against Batman and his protégé Robin. Jestress had to sneer at the little boy who pretended to be a man, at least she was fully grown under the watchful eye of Joker. Jestress always carried a few explosives in her pockets whenever she went out and would often just light them and throw them at random places, no real rhyme or reason, but the sheer chaos of it. Joker would just laugh at her as she passed by a toy store and lit one up, causing the store to erupt with cotton fluff and painted wooden pieces.

Jestress adored her life with Joker. She had lived with him since her arrival to America and now that she was twenty she had matured into a calculated, killing machine. Every night she and Joker would go out and create anarchy and chaos. They never really had much of a plan, except to frustrate Batman in the most outlandish ways.

Jestress was out one night, dressed in her favorite dark purple velvet suit with a sleek lime green pinstripes and her red and black vest when she saw the Boy Wonder out patrolling. She smiled to herself, the scars stretching up to cheek bones. Why shouldn't she have a little fun? She made her way over to Robin when Batman came up behind her. When she turned around he grabbed her and caused her to lose her footing. She screamed out and dug her nails into his suit.

"Where's Joker?" he asked in his deep voice.

"Je t'encule!" she screamed at him. He lifted her off the ground and held her off the bridge of Gotham River.

"I'm going to ask you one more time Jestress, where is Joker," he asked, her French vulgarity not phasing him.

Jestress yelled out and heard Joker's laugh from the bridge deck.

"Having fun with my girl Bats? So much prettier than your little boy," he called out.

"Let go of me," she called out, her French accent thick and heavy in her anger. She reached out and kicked at him when his fingers slipped and he let go of her. Jestress screamed out as she fell down into the rushing water below her. She heard Joker scream out before her back hit the water and she sank down, hitting her head on one of the rocks on the bottom before bouncing back up to the surface.

Jestress woke up on the side of the river. Her clothing was torn and she had cuts and bruises from head to toe. She stood up on shaky legs and began to walk down the river. She came across two boys fishing in the river.

"Hey Lady are you okay?" one of the boys called out.

"I do not know," she answered and fainted.

Jestress heard beeps the low murmurs of people talking. She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital. Beginning to panic she strained against the wires and tubes that were in her. Nurses and doctors came running to calm her down. She felt a needle jabbing her and a sudden release. Once she stopped struggling the nurses lifted themselves off of her.

"What's your name Miss?" one of them asked looking down at her.

"I don't know," she slurred before she was out in darkness again.

Jestress found herself a long term patient of the Arkham Asylum in the amnesia ward. She wandered up and down the halls or clutching her lime green hair looking out the window. She couldn't remember who she was and it was killing her. Every day she would play card tricks, not knowing what she was doing or how she knew the tricks that she did. She would often ramble in French and when nurses asked her what she said she'd look at them as if they were crazy.

Five years of the white walls of Arkham and she was going crazy. She was walking down the halls when one of the nurses told her it was time for her medication when she went crazy. She grabbed the nurse by the collar and threw her against the wall. Jestress felt a club come down on her head and went down to the floor.

When she woke up memories flooded back of who she was. Jestress was herself again. She looked down at her hands and felt her face. She began to chuckle, until her chuckles became hysterical and she began to hatch a plot to escape. Jestress detached some of the tubbing from the breathing tubes and waited for the quiet of the night. When she was sure the floor was quiet she ran for the nurse and waited, her smile covering her face.

When the nurse came in to check on her she knocked her down and wrapped the tubing around her neck, pulling tight. Jestress didn't hesitate to undress the nurse and exchange clothes. She tucked her long hair into the cap and walked out the front door into the freedom of the night air. She heard the alarms going off and broke into a run. After her memories came flooding back to her she knew she couldn't go back there. She had to get back to her life, her real life as Jestress with Joker.


End file.
